Nostalgia
by everslark
Summary: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark begin to grow back together as they find themselves in each other. New days bring new challenges, and their relationship is anything but easy. Anguish fills their life, and they wonder how their lives will ever find their way back to normality. Post Mockingjay.
1. Chapter 1

**Nostalgia **

**Part 1 **

The sapphire water was placid, and the thin autumn air was crisp with just the right amount of coolness. I had left Peeta in bed this morning, and I went out to hunt. To my dismay there was no game, so I ended up sitting on Gale and I's rock. That only made sour memories resurface that I had no desire to relive. Consequently I moved myself over to lake that only brought me memories of happiness. As I sat there I could almost feel my father cloaking a blanket over my shoulders and bringing me into a bear hug. I can hear his gruff voice whisper into my ear, "Everything is going to be okay my sweet baby girl. You've got what you need, and I'm only a short walk away." I feel him tenderly kiss my head, and then the nostalgia is gone.

I lie down onto my back and spread my arms and legs out. I try to soak up the warmth of a sun like a sponge would soak up water. I watch my chest rise up and fall down with my even breathing. I just exist and reflect for a while.

I've finally gained some of my weight back thanks to the help of Greasy Sae and Peeta. Peeta has been back for six weeks now, and we've been sleeping in the same bed for two weeks. I don't go back to my house that often anymore, it brings back gut churning memories that I would much rather forget even though I am fully aware that's impossible. I've tried. Peeta's house brings me no memories, except for the ones we make together. Plus his house always smells like some delicious pastry and mine smells like Buttercup. I swear that cat has made it his mission to rub its nasty self on every piece of furniture, even the walls. I tell him that he's stupid on a daily basis, and his reply is a hiss followed by him rubbing himself all over my legs. He knows I hate it, and I'm sure that's why he does it, but when night falls and we are both overcome with loneliness I let him onto the couch and scratch him behind the ears. Even though I refused to let Buttercup into Peeta's house I see him perching at the windows, and Peeta, being Peeta, always lets him in. At first I fight him, but its no use. I want Buttercup in that house just as much as he wants to be there. I would let him in myself, but we are sworn enemies. He can't actually know I love him, and I have grown to love that cat almost as much as Prim did, almost.

_Peeta still hangs onto the back of the chairs and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake from nightmares of mutts and lost children, but his arms are there to comfort me._ I can't even count on two hands the amount of times I have hit Peeta during the night. I'll wake screaming and crying, and he reaches out to touch me and I strike him. Most of the time I am still lost in the world of nightmares, and luckily he knows that. I apologize every morning, and each time I do he just smiles and wraps me in a hug. Those hugs have never turned into kisses. I don't know if they ever will, he seems so guarded around me. Like he doesn't know whether to kiss me, or run the hell away from me. Nevertheless he still hasn't stopped expressing feelings for me, but there is always an underlying tone to his voice. Again, it sounds like he doesn't know whether to kiss me or run the hell away from me. I think, if I were he, I would run away.

I'm just about as messed up in the head as they get, I used to be worse, and that was before Peeta got here. I didn't really move, or talk for those four weeks that I was here alone. I rotted in a cell of my own sadness. When Peeta came he unlocked that cell and set me free. He became my one source of happiness. I no longer had to rot in a cell of sadness, when I could see the light. He is my light, and each day when I wake up to him, I smile. I smile because I know, or at least I think I know, that his face is the face I will wake up to for the rest of my life. I don't mind that, in fact I welcome it with open arms. His is the only face I want to see in the dreamlike morning light, and I hope he wants to see mine too. I will never get sick of smoothing down his bedhead hair, or feeling his hands tangle through my own. The thought makes a bashful smile appear on my face.

In the distance I hear a few leaves crunch, a sound that could only originate from a person's footsteps. Let them come; I'm too lost in happy thoughts to move. I close my eyes, and keep the smile on my face, I haven't been this happy in months and I don't intend to stop these wonderful ideals from entering my mind.

A shadow appears over me, making the sun vanish from above me. I let out an agitated sigh.

"If you're going to kill me just do it," I say with a straight face.

A low deep chested laugh, that can only be recognized as Peeta bellows above me. A smile, paints out across my face, showing all of my teeth. "Good morning to you too," he says.

I shoot my eyes open, "Isn't it a good morning? Come sit with me."  
"Someone is happy.." he says with an edge of confusion in his voice, and plops himself down next to me. "By the way, what are you doing?" he asks and gestured to the way I'm laying.

"Oh, I'm being a sun sponge," I giggle, sit up, and rid myself of the leftover grass on my clothing.

He raises his eyebrows at me, "You're being weird what's going on?"  
"Why is it a crime to be happy around here?" I say and cross my arms.

He lifts his hands in mock surrender, "It's not-just you aren't usually like this." 

"Like what?" I say beginning to get a little agitated.

He shrugs, and reaches his hand to my arm. I can feel the warmth of his fingers through my long sleeve shirt. He traces his hand down my arm lightly, tenderly and whispers, "You're acting happy. And I don't ever want it to end." Then he brings his hand to my cheek, and smiles a sad smile. "When you're happy, I'm happy." He takes a deep breath like he's about to reveal a secret, "I think you're beautiful."  
I scoff at his bluff. He must be blind.

He shakes his head miserably, "No. Don't do that. You really have no idea, how beautiful you are to me. You'll never see it, but I see it every morning when I wake up. And you put a smile on my face. Katniss-"

He chokes on his words and tries to regain his calmness, but I cut him off before he can finish his final words.

"Stop," I choke out.

"Why? You deserve to-"  
"You're going to make me cry," I snap.

A smile creeps up on his face, "You don't always have to be so strong."

"Oh, but I do," I huff.

He shakes his head again, "Not around me. We can cry together."

I chuckle a little, but it comes out a bit wrong, more like a heave. "Peeta-"  
He caresses my cheek with his thumb, and brings his face closer to mine causing my words to hitch in my throat. He hasn't dared to ever show this much affection towards me before today. Of course he still made sweet comments toward me, but I figured that was just him being himself. Now this rush of affection is leaving me dazed, and given me a racing heart. I'm almost positive he can hear my heartbeat as close as he is. He takes a breath, and his exhale tickles my lips.

"Why now?" I ask, my words fluttering across his lips.

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, and I take in a harsh breath.

"I've been waiting to get this close to you, but I don't know how you feel about it," he pauses for what feels like hours, "How do you feel about it?"

I grab his left hand in my own, and bring it to my heart. I let it sit there on my racing heart for a few seconds before I remark, "How do you think I feel?"

In reply he takes my hand and leads it to his heart. To my surprise, I think his heart may be beating wilder than my own. "Glad we feel the same way," he whispers and smiles.

"Now what?" I ask, even though I feel as if I know the answer.

He inches his face closer to mine, so that I can feel the brush of his lips against my own. I'm having a hard time steading my breathing, and an even harder time calming down my thoughts. His lips are just about to reach mine, and extinguish the fire inside of me when a large crash sounds behind us.

We both fly backwards, and survey our surroundings. "Did you hear that?" Peeta asks, his breathing extremely uneven.

"Yeah, but I don't see anything," I reply and continue to peruse around the area.

Peeta stands up from the ground, and wipes his pants off. "I'll go look around and then come back. Stay here okay?"

I nod, "Okay."

Once he is out of sight, I fling myself onto to the ground, back up, and fight back a scream. He was _this _close. And life had to go and ruin it.

After a few minutes of pulling grass out from the ground, I've managed to bring my heart rate back to normal, and my breathing as well. Now I am staring out to the other side of the lake, trying to picture a life where my sister and father were not both gone. In some insane way, it makes me smile. I paint a picture in my mind of my father, Prim, Peeta, and I fishing by the lake. I would be helping Prim attach a worm to a hook, while she squirms away in terror. My father and Peeta would be talking next to us. My father would be grilling Peeta, making sure he's the perfect match for his little girl. I would look up and smile at him timidly, then Peeta would beam a smile back at me. We would be in love, and more importantly we'd all be happy. I wipe away the idea of Peeta at this little family outing I've created, and call it stupid for ever imagining him loving me. I'm just exiting dreamland when Peeta plops down next to me for the second time today.

I don't bring my gaze towards him when I ask, "Anything?"

"A deer," he says.

"I haven't seen a deer in these woods for years," I remark.

He guffaws, "Funny that one shows up now."  
I roll my eyes. Peeta begins to speak again before I can, "Want to take a walk?"  
"Where to?"  
"Town," he replies.

"Why?" I say curtly.

"I'm rebuilding the bakery, and I want you to see something I did with it."

I turn to him skeptically, "What did you do?"  
He rolls his eyes at me, "Gosh Katniss don't act so eager." He rises from the ground again, and holds out his hand. I gaze across the lake one last time, and a flicker of Prim and my father flash across my eyes. My father smiles, and waves me on to go. Just as I'm about to close my eyes, I hear his words ring in my head. _He loves you. Now go on and be happy, I'll be waiting for you right here. But don't forget you'll always be my little girl. _A rush of warmth filters through me, and gives me chills at the same time.

"Katniss?" Peeta coos from above me.

I bring my hand up to his and hoist myself aloft.

The walk into town is only ten minutes. I hold his hand the whole way there; I don't care who sees, or who talks. He acts surprise when at first but he doesn't let go, he just holds tighter than ever.

When we get into the general vicinity of the bakery he tells me to close my eyes. I make a snide comment, and then lock up my eyes. He stops me abruptly, drops my hand, and whispers sweetly against my ear, "Open".

I let my eyelids flutter open slowly, and gaze at him before the bakery. He has a smile painted across his face, and he's motioning for me to look. I let my eyes drift to the right, and study it for a moment. When I see it a tear falls down my cheek, and I wonder how one person can be so kind, and how Peeta continues to treat me like the sun rises and sets with me even after all I've done. I turn to him, smile, and throw my arms around his neck. He stumbles back a bit, but holds me tight.

"Oh it's just beautiful Peeta. How did you do it? Why did you do it?" I ask bewildered.

"I did it because she deserves to be remembered, and how I did it is a whole other story. I've been working on it since I got back. I've never seen a building go up faster than this one," he exhales, obviously excited that I like it, "and I painted the words, and the flowers."

My arms fall from his neck, and I turn back to the sign. The word _Primrose's _is written in a beautiful baby pink, and done by hand. You can see the brush strokes of paint clearly against the glass. The words are done in the most breath taking calligraphy I've ever seen. And next to the words are two evening primroses, also done by hand and in a style that could only be Peeta's. I tiptoe over to the glass window, and bring my hand to it. I don't dare touch it but I trace the words with my fingers in the air. I trace only what I can reach, the rest I simply gaze at, admiring the beauty that is done by Peeta's hands.

"Do you like it?" asks Peeta.

"I love it," I whisper.

He envelops me in another hug, and kisses my forehead lightly. "She would have loved it Peeta, she really would have."

"I hope she can see it, wherever she is right now."

I smile against his ear, and then pull away. He takes my hand, and leads me back to the house. When we arrive back to the Victor's Village the sun is setting, and it beams Peeta's favorite color. "Look", I say, "It's you're favorite color painted in the sky."

"Yeah," he answers, "yeah it is. But I have something much more beautiful standing right next to me."

I can't help but blush and flash him a girlish smile. He throws his arm around me, and pulls me close to him so that my head can rest on his shoulder. He plants a kiss soft as air on my head, so soft that I can barely even feel it. Then I hear him smile. "So…", he says, "I made some lamb stew, and I've got some fresh made cheese buns on the island. I don't know if you would want-"

"Yes!" I interject, "Yes I want some!"

He deeply chuckles, one that comes straight from the gut. "Well then let's waste no time! Food awaits!" He sashays us both through the door and into the kitchen; I laugh the whole way there, but not because it's funny but because I am happy, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

"You are quite the soup stirrer over there," he remarks as I sway to the soft music playing in the background while simultaneously stirring the lamb stew. He looks at me like I have three heads, and guffaws to the floor. After calming himself, he gathers up the strength to walk over to me. He then sweeps me into his arms, and we dance around the kitchen. His arm is wrapped around my waist and his other handclasps my own. He wears a boyish grin on his face, and I can't contain my giggles. We go from a slow dance to skipping around the room wrapped in each other's arms. As we round the island Peeta's foot catches on the jagged edge of the counter, and we both tumble down in a fit of giggles and screams. We twist as we cascade down to the tile floor, causing him to land on top of me. I can feel the vibrations of his vocal chords against my neck as he apologizes for tripping. I can't breathe or speak because I am laughing too hard, and that just makes him laugh.

He props himself up with his arms, and hovers above me. His deep blue eyes, and his dreamlike smile put me in a haze. I hadn't identified with these feelings I possessed until this morning when he almost kissed me, and almost none of it makes sense. Especially why he hasn't kissed me yet, this is the perfect time, and I just know my eyes are begging for it. Instead of closing the ever-present gap between us he rolls off of me and onto the space next to my body.

My hands make fists in anger, and I force myself up from the floor so that I don't do something stupid like lean over and kiss him myself. If he doesn't feel the same, then I can't let him know I feel this way at all, even though I am almost positive that my feeling is requited. I hate this. I don't want to be that teenage girl obsessed with a boy, so I decide that I am above it. Then I shake it off, except that only lasts until he touches my hip gingerly with his fingertips and I go back to being a boy obsessed teenage girl. The promise I made to myself lasted a whole two minutes. I congratulate myself on that accomplishment.

"I think the soup is ready," I state, my voice a bit shaky.

"Perfect, the cheese buns are waiting!" He beams.

"Lovely," I say agitated. Peeta gives me a strange look. He knows I adore his cheese buns so he is probably wondering what has put me in sudden bad humor. Little does he know his cheese buns have done nothing wrong, who doesn't love a cheese bun. It's him causing the problem, and really he hasn't done anything wrong accept make me want him. Badly. And right now and I hate him for it, and love him for it at the same time. I've never felt so alive. Every part of me is burning, and this flame cannot be put out. Every part of me tingles when he grins at me. I can't take my eyes off of him the whole dinner, and he can tell something is up.

"Do I have something on my face?" He asks, and wipes his face with his hands.

"Oh no. No," I reply finally averting my gaze, and focusing on my reflection in the spoon.

He looks at me quizzically, "Then why are you staring at me?"

I shrug, "No reason, except that you're straight across from me. You are in the way of my view."

"View of what? The staircase?"

"Why yes," I say, "you know that is made of mahogany," I mock Efiie.

A sad smile grows upon his face, "That reminds me, Haymitch wanted to talk to you as soon as possible by the way. It's important, you should go after dinner."

I set down my spoon, just by looking into his eyes I can see that whatever it is Haymitch needs to talk to me about is not about puppies and rainbows. "I'll go now," I say worried.

I'm standing up from my chair when Peeta blurts out, "Why don't you just wait until the end of dinner?"

I grit my teeth, I simply want to be in on whatever is happening. Before I can respond he begins to speak again, "We are just having such a good night, I don't want any of that to get ruined because the news-"

"Wait," I cut in, "You know what it is?"  
Peeta clears his throat, "I made him tell me, I just wanted to know what I would be dealing with. How it would affect you, how it would affect us."

"Us?" I remark, and then ask what has been on my mind the whole evening, "Is there an us?"

In response he shrugs, "I don't know Katniss." Peeta rubs the back of his neck in discomfort before he speaks again, "It's not like we can deny, or at least I can't, what we feel for each other. I never know with you though, if it's real or not. I've never stopped loving you. But I don't know if you ever started loving me."

I want to tell him that I love him, that I started loving him the moment he hit the force field. The moment I realized that if he died, I died too and that losing him meant losing myself. But it doesn't seem like the right time so I bottle it inside, and wait for the day when it will explode. I keep quiet for a few moments before whispering, "I did."

Before he has the chance to respond I speed walk out of the house only to find myself hit with the frostiness of the outside. The air is almost as bitter as I. Dashing to Haymitch's house feels like minutes instead of seconds, and I burst through his door without so much as a knock. I holler his name, and someone moans in response. I find him slumped in a crimson velvet chair. His shirt and pants are stained with alcohol, and the room reeks of a bad hangover. I cover my nose with my shirt, well actually its Peeta's shirt. I didn't realize that I had on his t-shirt until now. After idling for a few minutes I stop avoiding the inevitable, and get it over with.

"Peeta told me that you had news to give me. What is it?" I demand.

He howls. "Sweetheart, why didn't the boy tell you?"  
"Because you're suppose to!" I snarl.

His eyes roll in my direction, "Don't get angry, sweetheart."

"What's the news I want to get out of here before I puke," I spit.

He exhales like he's taking a weight off his shoulders, "Effie's dead. They found her body in Snow's rose garden, and they found your sister's remains. Both of them are being delivered here two weeks from now. They are in the labs now, making sure they are indeed who they expect."

My lips quivers and my hands shake, "How bad were they?"  
He grazes my hand, "Prim's were unrecognizable, and Effie's were all too recognizable."

"How'd she die?" I ask uniformly.

"Beaten to death. Tortured. They think she's been dead for a few weeks. No one knows who killed her. As of Prim, well you know that."

"It was definitely his?"

In answer he gives a somber nod of his head.

I screech, and hold back the pools of tears forming in my eyes. "Thank you," is all I can say to him. As I turn away I believe that I see his deep green eyes glossy with tears as well, but I don't know, and I will never know.

When I reach the outside again I am greeted with the same bitter air as before. My whole being feels numb. I feel as if my heart has stopped feeling, but is still beating, still keeping me breathing. Even though I do not want to breathe, I don't even want to be alive right now.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Peeta standing on his porch with fists way deep in his pockets. I want to run to him, but I can't move. I cannot speak nor fathom what my life has become. My life has become living death, and none of this seems right. It feels like one of my nightmares, and when I wake up Peeta's arms will be around me and his soothing voice will be calming me. But this is not a nightmare, this is my life, and no one is going to be waking me up any time soon. I slump to the ground with a distressed moan, and my body folds up. The tears come without me even knowing, and the troubled wails come as well. I seal my eyes shut, and let the sobs rattle my body. Throughout the whole episode I focus on the rough jagged edges of the frosted wood. It feels like sandpaper against my bare skin, and I writhe against it just to feel alive; to feel something other than numb. I break my focus away from the wood when I feel hands raising me above it. Warm, calloused, dry hands, hands I know so well. The only hands I want to feel against my skin. I focus on there warmth and how it sends shivers through my body.

I don't, I can't, focus on the pain for it makes it more painful, evermore difficult to bear. He lightens the burden though; he holds me and all of my troubles. His weight is twice as much as mine, because he carries it for the both of us.

I've soiled the shoulder of his shirt with warm salty tears. And his own tears have fallen on the crown of my head. After what feels like hours of walking I am laid down on bed sheets. Cold, unwelcoming bed sheets.

"Katniss," he mumbles and pushes my hair back, "Sh. Sh. I'm here. No one is going to hurt you. I'm here. They can't hurt you anymore," he whispers.

"They already did," I yelp, "I'm broken. You can't fix me. Just stop trying for your own good. Get out of here."  
His mouth falls into a line and he shakes his head, "I am never leaving you. I'm here to fix those broken pieces. To put them back together," he pauses for a moment and I stare at him in shock, "Just like one would put back together a broken mirror, I will put you back together. And I know some of the pieces will be sharp, and sever my skin, but I won't stop until I can see you in that mirror again. And your reflection will be picturesque."

"No!" I scream. "You'll ruin your life trying to fix me!"

"My life already has been ruined. So has yours," he pulls me back into his arms, "I lost you, and when I did all my nightmares became reality. They took you away from me, in the most personal way. My own ideal was that you were a murderer that you were out to have my head on a stake. And my mind was bound in chains. Only a small part, could remember how much I loved you," I go to rebut but he puts his thumb over my lips, "How much I still love you, and how much I always will."

Suddenly he knots his hands with my hair, and presses his lips to mine. They are wet with his words, and warmed by his inner fire. The hunger flourishes inside of me once more, and spreads throughout my being. Warming every part of me, and driving my heart and mind to madness. I know I will not be the first to pull away, because it feels so good, so impossibly good.

And I am not. Peeta pulls away first, trying to catch his breath even though our kiss only lasted for a few seconds. "Katniss," he whispers, "I'm sorry. I don't want to complicate things between us. I was fine where we were. I am sorry."

"I'm not," I state boldly.

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, "You're not what?"

"Sorry."

"You mean you liked what just happened? You-"

"Yes," I cut in, "I liked it."

"But where does that leave us? Still just friends who sleep together?"

"I don't think we are destined to be just friends," is the answer I give him.

I can tell he doesn't know what to say by the way he is biting his lips. He settles me down on the bed, and gets up. Leaving me alone. He paces around at the foot of the bed. Is he doing this to confuse me, because he surely has?

"I shouldn't have kissed you just then, you were crying and vulnerable," he says barely above a whisper.

I shake my head, "Then you should have kissed me those other two thousand times that you were about to today!"

"It wasn't that many times Katniss. I don't know what to do about us. I don't want to hurt you. I'm a ticking time bomb for a flashback. I could kill you."

"What are you saying?" I ask.

"I'm just saying that I don't know what to do about us."

I gnash my teeth together; "Well you should have figured that out before you kissed me, so why don't you let me know when you have got this figured out."

I storm out of his room in a fit of anger. I can hear him screaming my name, but everything sounds muffled. And soon enough I am exposed to that bitter air again, and I'm running through it. I push the door open, and am greeted by darkness. The furniture is dusty, and the floors creak every time you take a step. It harvests bad memories, but it's my house, never my home. There is a pile of mail sitting my counter, and I decide to go through that since I know I will not sleep tonight. Most of them are from the capitol, checking on me. One is from my therapist; I chuck that into the garbage without a second thought. Most of them also find a home in the garbage, except for two. One is from my mother, and the other is from Peeta. Obviously Peeta's letter is older but still I will open it.

I peel opens my mother's first. She asks me how I am, tells me about all of the healing she is doing. Asks if Peeta is well, and if things between us resemble some kind of normalcy. _They were until tonight,_ I think. But then again things between Peeta and us will never be normal, but we've both accepted that. She demands I call her because she misses me terribly. Then she tells me that she loves me, and signs her name.

Next I go to Peeta's letter. I have not a clue what it will be about.

I rip it open, and find a parchment paper inside. It's a short letter, but by just looking at it I can sense that it holds his feelings.

_My dearest Katniss,_

_I am coming home soon. Please do not lose faith me. The doctors say I can remember everything clearly again accept for one thing. That thing is you. My vision of you is still hazy, so they believe. But I know differently. My vision of you is crystal clear. I see you in the forest outside my window, and the painting of a lake that hangs above me. I see you in the messy sheets of my bed, and I see you in the primrose flowers that grow at the edge of windows. All I want is to see you for real, in front of me, with your stunning grey eyes burning into me, making my blood boil, and putting my stomach in ropes. I am coming home. I am coming home. I am coming home, and I hope that I can find my true home in you._

Tears well up at the corner of my eyes, but I force them back. I snatch a frame from the corner of the coffee table and tear the picture of fake flowers from it.

In its place I put Peeta's letter. Then I set back where it was, and eye it for a while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: This is a bit of a filler chapter for things that will be referenced later in the story, so bear with me (: **

**All rights go to Suzanne Collins I own nothing**

**Feedback is always appreciated. Here you go! **

**Chapter 2**

**_"We've been lonely too long"_**

I wake to the uncomfortable feeling of frigid granite beneath my cheek, and the smell of liquor in the surrounding air.

"Good morning sweetheart". I jump back at the sound a voice, and almost tumble off of the barstool.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I holler.

He laughs, "I let myself in, and just waited for you to wake up."

"That's not creepy at all," I say sarcastically, and narrow my eyes at him.

He stares at me as I rub my sore my cheek, "Look I didn't come over here to have some casual conversation with you. I actually came here for a reason. The boy."

I roll my eyes, "Yeah what about him?"  
"Last night he came to my house, real late, and he told me everything. Even stuff you don't know. And he asked me what to do about you. Naturally I told him you're a waste of time," he smirks. I punch his arm.

"Alright I was joking, good Lord. You're so dense. What I really told him was stuff that right now you don't need to know, but gosh if you could have heard him pour his heart out. About everything, Katniss I don't think you understand," his voice gets progressively lower.

"Understand what?"  
"That boy and you. I swear his words sounded as old as time itself, and when he asked me what I thought I told him the truth because he deserves it."  
"You really aren't making much sense," I say, "what did you tell him?"

"I told him how you feel about him because I know you can't, or you never will."

"That's none of your business, you have no idea how I feel about him," I spit.

"Really? Cause I think I know exactly how you feel. Remember that one night you came to my house hysterically crying?"  
I do. Very clearly actually. I had been thinking about Peeta all night, wondering if he would ever see me clearly again. And I had no one to talk to, so I ran to Haymitch's house in hysterical sobs. He invited me into his arms, and I told him everything. Right down to what I felt in the first games, and what I feel now. He averred that Peeta would come back around again, and the moment he did he would be standing on my porch. Two weeks later Peeta was planting primrose bushes in the front of my house. I cried that afternoon in my shower.

"So you told him all that?"  
He nods, "Now don't go and yell at me please. I know it's very personal information but just let me tell you what happened after I told him."

"Okay…what happened?" I ask a bit afraid of the answer.

"He collapsed, and held his head in his hands and cried. For about an hour," he sips his white liquor casually.

I'm not sure how to respond because I am in quite a bit of shock so I ask, "What did you do?"

"I rubbed his back as he cried."

For some reason this makes my glassy with tears, "Really?"  
He nods, "After that happened he wanted to come see you, and I told him no, that it was three a.m. and that you would be sleeping. He continued to insist on coming over here to pour his heart out to you, and apologize for questioning his feelings. Now me sweetheart, I think he has every right to question his feelings. He is still fuzzy up there," he gestures to his head, "but I don't think he will ever be completely able to know what's real and what's not. He tells me though that more and more true memories come back each day. Anyways, once I got him to calm down, and convinced him that you would be sleeping and that waking you up would probably only make you madder he settled on my sofa and has been passed out there ever since. Be ready for a knock on your door, and go easy on him please."

"Why so sympathetic towards him all the sudden?"  
"Because he reminds me of myself. And I know how much it hurt."

"How much it hurt to what?"  
"To love someone so much," Haymitch simply states. Then he leaves. And I am left to let my thoughts roam, which is a dangerous place for me to be. I almost push myself to the point of tears, and then decide I need to take my mind off it all. My situation with Peeta, what Haymitch told me. So I begin to sketch like Peeta taught me. As I try to stop thinking about him I begin to draw him, his profile specifically. The drawing is foul, but it stops my mind from wandering. I focus on his long eyelashes, and try to portray the way he looks when he concentrates. I am just finishing his jawline when I hear a knock at the door. My stomach roils. I push back the stool, and smooth down my clothes, I fix my hair too a little bit.

"Katniss it's me. Open up please," a voice, begs from outside.

I close my eyes, and take a few deep breathes before swinging open the door. "Hi," is all I manage to conjure up after spending over an hour imagining what I might say to him. We stand there for a few minutes, awkwardly.

He shifts on the balls of his feet awkwardly, "So can I come in, or am I going to have to talk to you out here on the porch?"  
I had almost forgotten, "Oh yeah come in."  
"Thanks, so um.."

I rock back and forth on my toes, "Do you want to sit down?"  
"No, I actually came here to talk to you even though that's not really getting done," he crookedly smiles.

"So talk," I say preparing to hear his words flood my ears.

He sucks in a breath, "About last night, and the kiss. I shouldn't have implied that I didn't want us to have a relationship like that, because Katniss I do. And I shouldn't have confused you by kissing you like that when I wasn't sure what I wanted. I know what I want now."

"And what is that?"  
"You," he comes closer to take both my hands in his own, "Forever. And I know I will never be the same, but I want to work through it with you. The flashbacks the nightmares, I want to get through them all with you by my side."

I swallow hard, "I think I want that too."

"You want yourself forever too? I'm glad to here it," he chuckles and just like that the tension in the air shatters.

I smile, "No, I want you, forever. I guess I always knew that."

"So we don't have to move fast, we can take things slow. Get to know each other again, grow together-"  
"Peeta," I say, "we don't have to go painfully slow. I want to stop acting wounded. We've been lonely for too long, we don't need to deny ourselves each other. Not anymore," then I crush my lips against his catching him off guard. I'm tired of denying myself him, and I'm tired of living like a prisoner. Enough is enough; I am going to live a life like every other person would. I will not rot within myself.

I pull away first, wondering what his expression will be. He's surprised but also looks delighted. "You didn't let me finish my speech."

My lips break into a smile, "Continue please."

"Well," he tries to regain himself, "I want us to grow back together. As friends, as lovers, as people, but that doesn't mean anything between us has to change, don't feel forced to have anything between us change."  
The thing that astonishes me is that he knows how I feel about him, and he is still telling me that things don't have to change if I don't want them to. Haymitch was right; maybe it is painful to love someone so much.

"I've missed you, so much."

"I missed you too, Katniss. But I'm here now and I am never leaving you," he pulls me into a tight hug, "Thank you," he whispers into my ear.

"For what?"  
"Not giving up on me," I feel a light drop of water on my shoulder.

"Never." My stomach fills with butterflies, and a rush of emotion floods over me. I squeeze him tighter, like if I don't hold on to him he might slip away like he did so many months ago. "Stay with me," I plead.

"Always." And we break apart. Peeta's eyes come in direct contact with mine, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe. They are no longer hazy or clouded at all; they are clear as day, icy blue and beautiful. A small sound escapes me.

"What?" he asked concerned.

"Your eyes," I say placing my hand on his cheek, "they are clear again. They aren't clouded with venom anymore. Peeta, they're clear as day."

He puts his hand over my own, "I know Katniss, I'm back. Or at least most of me is. I'll never quite be the same but-" his voice trails off, he doesn't want to talk about it. Neither do I really. So we both stay silent, just exploring each other's eyes.

"You're beautiful," he states casually. Those sweet comments from him have always thrown me off. Then he breaks his eyes away from my own and wanders to the counter. Suddenly my face is hot, as I realize my crappy sketch is over there, as well as his framed letter. I hear him pick up piece of paper. "Did you sketch this?"

"Yeah its bad I just- well I needed something to deter my thoughts."

"No its beautiful, may I keep it?" he asks.

I shrug, "Um sure."

He studies the drawing for a few moments, and makes the same face of concentration while looking at the sketch as I was trying to create. I can see his mesmerizing eyelashes clearly in the morning light, and again I wonder how they don't get all caught up when he blinks.

"Katniss come with me," he says and takes my hand leading me out of the house. I let out a breath I had not realized I'd been holding in when he doesn't see the letter. He drags me to his house, and takes me upstairs into a room I've never been in before. It's full of canvases, and paintings line the walls. He grabs a blank canvas from the wall, and a stand. Then he directs me to his bedroom. He sets up the canvas and stand next to the bed and says to me, "Lie down."

I gingerly place myself on the bed, and lay back up so I can see the ceiling. He reaches for me, "May I?"

It is clear now that he is going to paint me, in what way I'm not sure. The colors he has out are white, blue, black, and grey. "Yes", I answer. Then he climbs on top of me, but not one part of his body touches me. This is clearly only for the painting. He reaches for my white button down shirt, and my stomach tightens. He undoes one of the buttons, letting just a little bit of my chest show. I'm embarrassed at first, but I get it over it quickly. Then he reaches for my braid and undoes that as well. My hair spreads out over the pillow in waves, and he smiles. This is the picture he is looking for, me on his bed but not posed. He wants me to look natural. "Don't move," Peeta demands. Then he goes to work. Occasionally he stands on a chair so he can get a look at me from above. And my whole body has goose bumps while he paints me. "Peeta," I say, "you want this to be natural right?"

"Yes," he responds. I undo another button of my shirt; letting it hang open I bit more so that I look more comfortable, like I really have just woken up from a slumber. He nods, and stares for a few moments then continues to work. I smile.

For the next two hours I lie in bed and pose for Peeta. I listen to his brush strokes against the canvas. When the brush strokes stop I know he is done; I look over to see his face and shirt splattered with paint, and he invites me to come and see it.

"Do I really look like that?" I ask astonished at how beautiful I look in his painting.

"Yes," he gazes at me, "You still have no idea the effect you can have." I remember the two other times he made this comment, and my hands begin to shake. I focus on the painting to push the nightmares crowding at the corner of my mind out.

In his painting my eyes are mesmerizing, so much that I could get lost in them. He hasn't missed a detail, and I look so natural. It doesn't look posed at all, and I was right about the shirt button. It hangs open just enough so that it looks like it came undone while tossing and turning in sleep. My arms are laid out beautifully, and my eyelids look heavy with sleep still. "I love it, its beautiful."

He smiles, and takes the painting from the stand. Then he places it on the wall right next to the door of his bedroom.

I reach out for his face, wanting to wipe some of the paint off of it. He catches my hand and presses it to his lips, just as he had that one time in the arena. He does it just like my father did to my mother, and even though it is such a simple gesture it makes my stomach flip.

"Um," I clear my throat, "You have some paint on your cheek."

He instantly moves his hand to the side of his face and gropes around trying to find the paint spot. "Let me, please?" I say and lead him into the bathroom. I wet a cloth and bring it to his paint stained cheek. "How do you do it?" I inquire while cleaning him up.

"Do what?" he asks fidgeting beneath the cold towel.

"Paint me like that."

"Simple, I just paint what I see and I see.." he stumbles on his words, "beauty."

I blush stupidly, and thank him. "All clean," I say and then exit the bathroom as quickly as possible. The tension inside of there was almost choking me. "Katniss," I jump.

"Hm…what?"

He gazes at me with question in his eyes, "Everything okay?"

"Mhm" _No, I really need to get out of here because my feelings for you are causing waves of terror to rush through my being. _

"You just looked like you couldn't breathe," he says still staring at me.

I reassure him everything is fine, "I just need some air, it's hot in here."

"I've got all the windows open, Katniss."

I fake laugh, "Weird, I'll be right back!" Then I run out of his bedroom before I do something stupid like tell him that it scares me to feel for him like this. I don't make it outside, but I make it to the bottom of his stairs. Where I rest my head against my knees and catch my breath. Every part of me is shaking, and this tsunami of unknown feelings is still rushing over me. I shudder, and just try to focus on calming down my heart. I've just about done it when I feel a strong large hand rest on my back, and the tsunami hits me once more. Peeta is next to me, in a pair on worn jeans, a thermal shirt.

"You scared me," I remark.

"I knew that when you trembled under my touch," he says meekly.

"Sorry," I say because I don't have any other words.

"If it makes you feel better you scare me too."

I glare in his direction, "I scare you?"

He nods, "Terrify me actually."

"Good to know, well I think I'm gonna go. I'll see you tonight for dinner," I get up from the stairs and grab my coat.

Disappointment flickers in his eyes, then disappears. "I'll have it ready by five. Be there or be square."

I laugh, "Well I don't want to be square, so I guess I'll be there."

He laughs as well, and while standing in the doorway I look to him and playfully shake my head. Then I shut to the door to the sound of his humming chuckles.

I head to the Hob first. It's rebuilt, and is a real trading center now rather than a black market. I get most of the food Peeta uses to bake here. He enjoys the freshness, but sometimes questions the quality. I tell him to stop being a baby, and just eat the food. That always makes him smile. As I think of his smile my stomach grows butterflies and I blush awfully. Greasy Sae sees, and reaches for me, "What has that boy gone and done to you now?"

"What?" I ask completely clueless, still lost in the vision of Peeta's smile.

She glares at me, "I said, what has that boy gone and done to you now?"

"Nothing. why?"I shoot her an unhappy stare.

"Cause you're acting all mushy gushy. Not very normal Katniss-like, usually you're scowling."

"You make me sound like an emotionless robot," I reply.

"Let's not forget that you were one for two full months. Peeta got you up and moving again. If he didn't come back, I know that you would still be on that couch, crumpled in a ball. Getting skinnier by the day until soon you found a home in a nice casket."

I want to punch her in the face, but I also want to ask her if that's what she really thinks. She's probably right, I don't think I would have moved from that couch had Peeta not come back. "That was a bit harsh," I say truthfully. Her comment has deflated me.

"We both know its true. I'm not trying to upset you darling."

I simply nod and continue on to the meat section of the Hob. I pay for a deer, and then am on my way.

Once I get back to the Victors Village I am greeted by an 'oh so happy Haymitch'. "You look different, " he says obviously drunk, I have not changed on bit since this morning.

I dismiss his offhand comment. "I got this for you," I say back and drop the deer on his doorstep. "Eat some venison, and continue to stay alive."

"Thanks sweetheart," he says as I trot off the porch. "Where's Peeta?"  
"Don't know, why don't you go find him if you want to know where he is!"

After taking a well-deserved nap, and clearing my head so that I can think straight I pack my bag for Peeta's with enough clothes for one week. I knock on his door at exactly five o'clock. His face is covered in flour, as is his apron. "Hi cake face," I pause and swipe some flour from his cheek, "What did you do? Roll in it?"

"Yes, Katniss I rolled in the flour."

"Sarcasm," I retort and gesture with my hands for him to shut up.

"You are the biggest pain in the butt ever," he avers. I walk inside, and he continues to the counter to knead some dough.

As he stands there with his back to me I hug him from behind. As my arms are around him I think, _this is not like me at all; I never show this much affection towards anyone or anything for that matter_. Peeta usually has to force me into hugs, so I understand why he jumps when I bring up a hug from the rear. I pull away instantaneously and gather myself. "Sorry," I mutter.

He turns around to face me, "Why are you apologizing?"

"Because-because," I stammer, "I'm not good at this sort of thing." I push my hair out my face, and try not to look Peeta in the eye.

"I'm sure you're plenty "good" at these things, you just never give yourself a chance to do them. You think too much."

I don't answer. "I'm almost positive that's what happened just then. You hugged me, let yourself think about it and then pulled away. Why do you find it so bad to show affection?'

"You know why Peeta."

He doesn't answer and I can't read him so I blurt out, "I feel like I am going to lose you. So it's better to not get attached, but I think it's a little too late for that."

He places his fingers under my chin and lifts my face up forcing me to lock eyes with him, "You're never going to lose me. I'm here now. I'm here forever. You can't get rid of me, even if you wanted to."

I leer, "Luckily I don't want to get rid of you."

"Well good, now how about you help me finish making this dinner. Then after we eat we can make some cupcakes. How does that sound?" He asks letting his fingers fall from under my chin.

"Lovely," I reply and rub my arm awkwardly.

He hands me a pan of chicken to throw in the oven, and I finish stirring the rice while he puts the bread in the oven. Within twenty minutes our dinner is done, and we are sitting at the table. Peeta tries to make small talk, asking me how my day was. I give curt answers, because I don't feel like talking. While he babbles about what he did all day, I fill my mind with the thought of how his hands feel against my face. His hands are dry, rough, and calloused from his months of torture and fighting, but when he places them on my cheeks they feel so soft, so warm. And I can't help but entertain the idea of his lips against my own. As he speaks I watch his lips, a perfect shade of scarlet. After each few words his wets them with his tongue, making my stomach whirl with emotion. Each word causes his lips to contort into a different shape. They look so smooth, and I have no doubt that they taste like pastries. At that moment, I want to reach out and capture them within my own.

"Katniss?" he yells breaking me from my thoughts. "I've called your name three times and you haven't answered." He looks at me strangely; I'm still staring at his lips. He follows my eyes to where they are, "Were you staring at my lips?"  
"Hmm?"

"Katniss, were you staring at my lips?" he asks already smirking.

I raise my eyebrows, "No, Peeta I was not staring at your lips."

"Funny because that seems to be what your eyes are entrained on."

I scoff, "Oh please. I was staring at—"

"What _were_ you staring at Katniss?" he inquires.

"The chair, alright? Now let's clean up." I insist agitatedly. We both get up from the table and begin clearing our plates. I don't speak another word to him. While washing the dishes he abruptly,"Things seem different."

"What do you mean?"

"Between us."

"They aren't Peeta," I state a bit irritated that he is harping on this topic.

"You seem so much more enclosed. Like you don't want me to know what you're thinking, just yesterday you were telling me everything. Well not _everything _but a lot for you. I felt as if your walls were finally coming down just a little bit. Now we seem to have gone backwards."

When I don't respond his face becomes filled with melancholy, "Is it because I told you how I feel about you? Katniss we don't have to be anything more than friends. I'm serious we don't. I shouldn't have kissed you last night." He sighs and pushes tendrils of hair out of his face.

"Stop it," I snap.

He just shakes his head, "I shouldn't have. It was a mistake."

"No it wasn't!" I scream, losing control I begin to shake with anger. A tear falls down my cheek abruptly. "Katniss, I didn't mean it like that," he says, and reaches for me.

"Don't touch me," I snarl, "I'm just a mistake to you." And then the tears really come. It isn't just his comment that makes me so upset; it's really everything catching up to me. All that time I was alone, pitying myself, I didn't cry often. Now the floodgates have opened, and everything is pouring out of me. Prim, my mother leaving, Finnick, Gale, Peeta, and all the pain flows out of me through my tears. I crumble to the ground in shards, and ugly sounds escape my lips. Soon Peeta is next to me, his arms enveloping and rocking me slowly as I sob uncontrollably.

"I am so sorry," Peeta repeats over and over again. He strokes my hair, and rubs circles on my back. After an hour or so of this, I lost the track of time, he begins to beg, "Please stop crying."

"Please, Katniss stop crying. Please," he pleads his voice cracking more and more each time he speaks. "Please Kat-" then he breaks, shatters actually. It is as if he were a wine glass, and someone dropped him on a tile floor. And he simply shattered into a million pieces.

Several hours we spend on that floor letting everything out. Peeta's cries are loud, and he shakes against me. He grips me harder and harder, like he is afraid I will slip away from him. "I'm sorry," he whimpers between cries, "for everything."

"Me too," I hiccup. When his glassy, but still mesmerizing, blue eyes lock with mine the tears finally stop, and I realize how lucky I am to have him.

"Oh god Katniss," he shrieks and pulls me into the tightest hug; it hurts to be in his arms, but a good kind of hurt. The kind that reminds you just how human you are.

"I am truly sorry," I stare into his sapphire eyes, "for everything I did to you. I never meant to hurt you. I am so so sorry." I want to tell him everything I am sorry for, mostly for not saving him in those games, if anyone should have been taken by the Capitol and dealt with the torture he did it should have been me.

"Me too Katniss," Peeta kisses my forehead. His lips stay pressed there for several minutes. "Let's skip cupcakes tonight, and just go up to bed."

As he helps me up from the floor Peeta says, "I lied." I don't ask about what, because I know.

Peeta opens the two windows in his room, changes into his sweatpants and a t-shirt, and crawls into bed. I change into the same, and meet him there. "Want to hear a story?" I ask.

"I would love to," he replies, and I cuddle into him.

This is how I tell him the truth I never could, "Once there was a girl, who was infatuated with a boy."

"Don't make this corny," he scoffs.

"Shut up and listen," I retort, "Alright, this boy, he had deep blue eyes, and a smile that could sway a world into war. And the girl, she was caught between him and herself. Love was not an idea she could entertain at the time, but each night she took out her only token of him. A shimmering pearl, and raised it to her lips. Remembering the sweet kisses he had given to her, and the nights she had spent in his embrace."

"Where was the boy at this time?"

"He was in a horrid place, so the girl made a deal with the devil to get him out. She promised the devil everything she had to offer, and the devil complied with her wishes. As she waited for the boy to return safely back to her she sat in the woods with one of her close friends. The only one who had had the same experience as she; the experience of having someone they love used against them as a weapon. So she wept into him, and that man told her that he had misjudged her. That her love was not fake, but very real, and very clear to everyone around her that it was this way."

"Finnick.." he whispers under his breath.

"When the boy returned the girl had planned to tell him, tell him how she felt. But the boy was not as he once was and to him the girl was a abhorrent beast. For months he stayed like this, pushing her to madness. And then one day when she was about to end her life, he saved her. His exact words when she told him to let go of her, was "I can't". And she knew at that moment that he was coming back, slowly but surely. And a fire flickered inside of her, and set her ablaze. When she returned home that fire still kindled inside of her but had no one to feed it. A month later the boy came back and the fire was once again set aflame. She came back to life, as did her feelings. Because of him, everything once dormant was now awake," the "story" has missing pieces, and lacks the elements of a real story. It's language is poor, but it isn't meant to be enthralling. It is my confession.

He looks to me confused, "You really held my pearl to your lips every night?"

"Yes," I admit.

"So you felt for me that whole time?"

I nod. "What about Gale?"

"He filled the void when I was lonely," I am brutally honest and I see Peeta become small at this statement.

"And what about now, right now?"  
In answer I pull out the iridescent pearl from my pocket, and place it in his palm. Then I enclose his fingers around it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

**_"Those Who Are Dead, Are Not Dead_**

**_They're Just Living In My Head"_**

**_ (3 months later)_**

Bitter winds rip through Peeta's open bedroom windows, and bite at my cheeks. I lie next to him, trying to fall back into some kind of sleep, but the frigid temperature of the room keeps my eyes open. Snowflakes stick to the screen, and die there. My teeth begin to chatter, and my body shakes uncontrollably as shivers arise across my skin. Peeta grumbles beside me, and turns around to face my body.

"Katniss…" he mumbles, "Katniss…" His eyes are still completely closed, and I assume he is in the land of dreams. Or nightmares. A few moments later his eyes beat open, "Shut the window," he whispers. I crawl out of the bed, in my silk pajamas hand crafted by Cinna, and slam shut the window. "Thanks," he murmurs, and pulls me back close to him. The warmth from his skin bounces off of my own, making my goose bumps quickly fade. Peeta says one more thing but I don't quite catch it as tendrils of sleep pull him back under. As for me I lie awake still, thinking. Thinking is the worst possible action one can do in the darkness of night, for that is when everything gets to you. It's when every thought you have been pushing out of your mind seeps in the cracks, and leads to sickness. The thought that makes me sick tonight is Peeta. We decided we weren't ready for more the friendly relationship after he kissed me those times. Both of us admitted that we don't want to rush anything because of our own numbness. We want to do it because we really feel something, not to pretend. We were looking for closure in the physical actions, but we wouldn't find it in each other because neither of us had it.

I knew that we weren't ready to be more than what we are, which I'm not even sure what we are, but part of me also felt slightly deflated knowing that I would not have his lips to comfort me anymore. Now we follow our daily routine to keep us busy. Not a day has gone by that we have messed up our new routine. It usually goes like this: Peeta awakes before me and showers, the clinking of the faucet wakes me up and I lie in bed until he comes out fully dressed and ready for the day, we exchange morning greetings maybe a hug it depends, then we go downstairs and eat breakfast. After that he heads off the bakery, and I check on Haymitch, then I hunt until 4 which is when Peeta gets back. We make dinner together (mostly him), eat, we cuddle on the sofa, then we go to bed and fight off the nightmares together. It never changes.

The clinking of the shower faucet wakes me. I toss my body over to Peeta's side of the bed, and bury my face in his pillow to soak up his delicious consoling scent. A small voice peeks out from behind the bathroom door, "Pssst, Katniss."

I peek my face out from the pillow, "What?"

"Can you grab me my clothes there on the dresser?"

I grunt, "Why can't you get them?"  
He looks down, "Well I'm only in my towel, and well you're out there."  
I roll my eyes, and arise from the bed. My steps are lethargic and drawn out as I grab his clothes from the cherry oak dresser, and walk them back to the ajar door. "Thanks," he says I'm about to flop back onto the bed when he says, "Good morning. I'll be right out. I…umm… I've got something planned for today." Then he disappears back into the bathroom. _So much for the routine today,_ I think to myself.

What could he possibly have planned? Today while he was at the bakery I was just going to lay in bed, I was actually looking forward to it. On Sundays I stay home from the woods because Peeta only works until 2, by the time I got out there I would have to turn right back around.

Peeta comes out in a red, white, and gray plaid shirt with dark blue jeans on. "Well what are you waiting for? Get dressed!"

"How should I dress?" I ask suspiciously and not all too amused.

"Like you usually do." Peeta replies.

He sits himself on the bed next to me, "Today's gonna be great. It will take our minds off the upcoming date."

It takes me a minute to realize what he means, and then I get it. The anniversary of my father's death is tomorrow. My whole body shrinks at the thought of going out to where my old house was, and mourning over his cement slab. "Well get out so I can get dressed," my voice is awfully shaky. Peeta must notice because he kisses the top of my head, and then leaves.

I dress myself in jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt, and my father's brown leather hunting jacket. When I walk out the room I find Peeta waiting right outside for me. I look at him with question in my eyes, "Just wanted to make sure you were okay, you just didn't look too good when I left. So I thought I would stay out here."

"Well, I'm fine," I accidentally snap and then say sweetly as I can locking with his eyes, "thank you though."

I don't know if it is out of comfort, or something else but he takes my hand in his own. It makes me smile. "So what are we doing today?" I inquire.

"We are getting you a new bow and arrows," he says to me as we walk out of the Victor's Village.

I stop short, "Wait Peeta, those things cost so much money and I don't _really _need one."

"Katniss your bow is all burnt up from the fire bombs, and one of your arrows breaks every day. You said yourself that you're down to only four arrows." He begins walking again and I follow.

"Peeta you don't-"

He cuts me off harshly, "Yes I do Katniss. Yes I do." We walk silently the rest of the way there. A few people try to stop us and stare on our way through the busiest part of town, the place where the Capitol people come to pick up their medications, or drugs. Peeta pulls me through the throngs of people who are not used to seeing us actually living. He continually says, "No. Please move. Excuse us. No photos. No."

I hide in his coat until I'm corned into the small store where my gift resides. "I'm sorry," he says, "I didn't think many people would be out today. I mean it's a Sunday. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," I state.  
"Well how about we get that bow for you? Huh?" he tries to get me to smile,

or at least show some kind of emotion.

I nod, "Yeah."

"Hey, Taraus!" he shouts, "Can we get those bows I ordered out here?" Peeta smiles toward me again.

I force one back. "Sure thing Peeta!" a man who I assume to be Taraus hoots back. And within a few minutes 3 beautiful bows, adorned with sheathes of arrows come from the back room.

Peeta looks over at me and says, "You can have anyone you want."  
"Are you serious?" I run my fingers gingerly over the three hand crafted wooden bows. Each one has my name engraved on it, and all of them remind me of the one my father gave me. Like Peeta said, it was damaged in the fire, and can only be used for short amounts of time. "Peeta these are," I can't finish my sentence because my eyes land on the cherry oak bow, and the Sedona wood arrows with tips sharp as daggers. My name is engraved along it horizontally, in calligraphy. "Did you carve my name into this?", I ask Peeta, "It looks just like the words on the window of your bakery."

"Yes," he admits.

I point to the striking deep crimson bow that I have already fallen deep into love with, "I would like that one."

Peeta's eyes lock with Taraus as if to say, _you heard her. Get the bow ready._

"Thank you so much for this Peeta," I throw my arms around him and he wobbles a bit but gathers himself and holds me cozily. "This means the world to me," I whisper into his ear.

"Anything for you," and warmth exudes from the place where his lips just graze my neck.

"Want to try it out?" Taraus says from behind us.

Peeta and I forcefully break apart. "Yes please," I respond. He hands me the bow and one arrow.

"Shoot at one of the three targets on the wall," he says and points to the right. I gather my bow and arrow, and walk to the target.

"Shoot straight," Peeta whispers into my ear as I prepare to let the arrow fly.

I smile and let it fly. The arrow hits dead center. "That's my girl!" Peeta shouts.

"So what they say about you is true," Taraus says under his breath.

Peeta waves goodbye to him, and puts his arm around my shoulder. Just like before we force ourselves through the throngs of people, but this time with less difficulty because I've got my bow. Most of the Capitol people move away once they see the lethal weapon in my hands. I would never shoot at them though, but if they want to move for me so be it. When Peeta and I have safely made it back home I tuck the bow and arrows under the bed until I retreat back into the woods. "I would give you the whole world if I could see you smile like that everyday," my head shoots up at the voice to find Peeta resting at the bottom of the stairs gazing up at me.

"I don't need the whole world, just you," he smiles an almost disbelieving smile and then withdrawals back into the kitchen where he is making us lunch.

I find myself that night stuck in a restless limbo. Floating between life and nightmares. I guess the two aren't too different now. My whole body hurts, but I can't move. I'm stuck in quick sand drowning in my memories. In the wee hours of the morning the nightmares take me.

_"Dad!" I wail. Everything is spinning, and the yellow canary perching in its metal cage has stopped singing. "Dad!" I yell again, hoping for a response this time. And I get one, but it's not a voice._

_The house falls apart in fragments. First the windows, their glass shards cutting through my skin, then the walls; they cascade down leaving dust at their bases. Soon I am standing in the middle of the floor, looking out to the burning mines. The smoke curls like fingers up the side of the hills, and rolls like thunder down and towards me. "Daddy!" I call out helplessly. I study the smoke with my eyes until it rearranges itself into my father's face. _

_ "Run Katniss," it hisses, "Run."_

_ And so I do. I run away from my house of ashes, and the smoke follows me. The tips of it lick and burn my heels. Then the voices start._

_ "Katniss!" an innocent voice screams._

_ "Prim!" I scream but don't stop to look behind me. Then another._

_ "Katniss!" a strong male voice yowls from the shadows. _

_ My breathing speeds as I cry, "Finnick!" And another comes._

_ "Katniss help me!" a raggedy torn childish voice screeches._

_ "Rue! Rue!" I still don't look behind me; I keep running further and further into the darkness that engulfs me. _

_All the people whose lives have ended because me call out, each one begging me to save them as the fire dashes at my heels. The last voice is my father's and he moans, "Katniss save me! I'm burning girl on fire! Save me!" _

_And so I stop, and let the fire scorch me. Girl on fire._

"Daddy!" I howl, and thrash under the covers. "No please no!"

And his arms take me. "It was just a dream." He strokes my hair calmly, "Just a dream."

My body is soaked in a mixture of sweat and tears. "Just a dream," he whispers and brings me down with him. My head lies in the crook of his neck, and tears pool and harden along his skin. He continues to work through my unruly hair, and whispers, "I'm here. I'm here. Just a dream. Not real. Not real."

But it's very real. My father is dead. Prim is dead. Rue is dead. Cinna is dead. Finnick is dead. They are all dead because of me, with the exception of my father. If only I hadn't been so selfish, so dead set on my own goals of killing Snow and saving Peeta. Maybe they would be alive. Maybe Finnick would actually be able to see his son grow up, and Prim would become a doctor, fall in love, and maybe even have a family.

I make myself _sick. _

At eight o'clock the tapping of the shower wakes me. I don't move when he comes out. "Good morning," I don't respond. I push my knees up to my chest, and rest my head against them. I wish to stop breathing.

I feel almost naked in my peach silk nightgown, with lace trim. I only wear it because Cinna made it for me. The silk provides little protection or warmth. Wearing it is as good as being naked, and with no sheets draped over me I basically am. Little of me feels bothered by it. I have too much rolling around in my head to care. A serious pain in my stomach comes from thinking about all deaths I could have prevented had I not tried to be brave when everyone knows I am not. Peeta was right, I'm a mutt made by the capitol. I wasn't always like this. They fashioned me to be like this, they knew I would self-destruct. President Snow knew he didn't have to live to kill me. Eventually I would kill myself.

I really do become sick this time. I lean over the edge of the bed, and throw up. Then I scream and scream and scream. I hear Peeta's clunky footsteps coming up the steps. I keep yelling like a madman.

"Katniss," he approaches me hesitantly like I am a lethal tiger. I don't blame him, I'm still loosing my head. "Calm down," he whispers. My breathing comes out all cracked, and brazen when I finally stop wailing. "I'm going to clean this up," he says with a degree of hesitation. I feel like a sick person who doesn't have the means to take care of herself. I threw up on the floor, because the person I am made me physically sick. I must be mad.

While Peeta cleans up the mess, I self-pity on the bed in my peach nightgown hiked up all the way to the very top of my thighs. None of me cares. I could be naked and I wouldn't even flinch.

"Did you," he rubs the back of his neck, "get sick anywhere else? Or on yourself?"

I shake my head.

"What happened?" he asks

I shrug. I'm not even sitting up, I am just curled up in a ball with my head hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Well it's almost one o'clock," he says, and still lingers in the room. If he is waiting for me to speak it won't happen.

_One o'clock, _I think. _So I've been self-pitying for over 5 hours. That's a long time, but no record. _I feel sick again.

"Let me get you a glass of water, your mouth probably tastes pretty bad after that." He sets a glass of water on the dresser. He balances on the balls of his feet, and looks deep in thought. After a few minutes he scoops me up from the bed, and holds me in his arms. He begins to sway back and forth, then Peeta starts singing to me. His voice is awfully off pitch, and cracks every five words but the song still sounds beautiful dripping from his lips. And the lyrics make me sad and happy at the same time,

"Deep in the meadow

Under the willow

A bed of grass

A soft green pillow

Lay down your head

And close your eyes

And when you wake

The sun will rise.

Here it's safe

And here it's warm

Here the daisies guard you from everyone harm

Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true

Here is the place where I love you."

Peeta dances with me as he sings, and gently kisses the top of my head when he's finished the melody I know so well. "I should visit him," I whisper to myself mostly.

"Want me to come?"  
My eyes lead up to his face, "Yes."

"Okay," he says but neither of us moves. I lay still in his arms, but he ceases to rock me. "Why don't you get dressed, and we will go before it snows, okay?"

"Okay." He sets me down gently and the fibers of my nightgown cascade over my legs.

He's just about to close the door when he states, "I know it's probably not the best time to say this but you look real beautiful." Then he shuts the door soundlessly.

I throw on sweatpants and a thermal shirt. I leave my hair down, and don't bother with anything else. Then I head downstairs, and throw on my large winter coat. Peeta follows behind me at a safe distance as we walk to my old house. It takes us ten minutes to get there, but it feels like an hour with the frigid wind biting at our cheeks.

I venture over the stones that were my home, and to the back where a slab of concrete stops the growth of grass. My mother wanted a real tombstone but all we could afford was a slab of wet rocks. We wrote his name over them, and his birth and death date. I remember I placed flowers on his grave before the cement was dry and those got stuck there just like the words. They are long dead now but they are still stuck in place, kind of like him. Long dead, but still stuck in the ground.

I take my knees down to the frozen field, and run my hands over the concrete. Peeta stays a few feet behind me.

"I'm sorry Daddy. I'm sorry I couldn't save Prim. I. Am. So. Sorry," my voice sounds monotone and emotionless as the sounds escape my lips. "Can you do me a favor," a lump as the back of my throat forms, "can you please tell Prim I'm sorry? But also can you tell her that I'm still living, or at least trying to. Tell her I'm with Peeta, and we're still protecting each other." I look back at him, "And-and tell her that her stupid cat loves me now, but misses her terribly."  
"And tell Finnick that his little boy is beautiful. Oh Daddy he is gorgeous. Makes me wish I had kids," I laugh, "I don't have time to entertain that thought. Maybe one day. One last thing, tell Cinna that I wear the nightgowns and pajamas h e made every night. Peeta likes them a lot. More than I do I think," my mouth curls into a smile.

"I should come visit you more often. I miss you. I miss you loads Daddy," I press my lips to the palm of my hand and then transfer it to the stone. "I love you." Then I get up and throw myself into Peeta's arms. I hold back the tears, and sniff him in. He smells like clementine peels, and cake.

"Thank you for your daughter Mr. Everdeen," he says over my head and then leads me away. "It's gonna snow soon I can feel it."  
"Better be going then," I say.

Peeta nods, "Do you feel better?"

"I think so, only time will tell."

"Never realized how true that statement was until well…I realized how true that statement was," he scoffs, "that come out twisted."

I shake my head, "No I understand."

Peeta timidly brushes his fingers against mine, and keeps a trained eye on his shoes. I let my own fingers trace along his, my eyes looking off over the mountains the whole time. Rough, dry fingers intertwine with mine noiselessly. We keep our eyes staring at anything but each other's. I don't want to know what he's feeling, because my own feelings scare me enough. Butterflies flutter in my stomach, it's not like we haven't held hands before while walking to and from town. But something about this time seems much more purposeful, more intimate. My lip quivers, from the cold or from Peeta I don't know. A shiver runs through my whole body, and up through Peeta's. When we reach the house I'm greeted by a warm blast of air. I drop Peeta's hand.

"I'm going to make a fire, it's freezing out there," he creates friction between his hands. Peeta walks past me to the door, but not before he places his hand on my cheek and caresses it slowly, "I've never known someone as strong as you." Thenceforth he goes and fetches the wood from behind our house.

I find a warm spot nestled in the corner of the sofa, and curl up there. I lay my head on the armrest, and try to regain some sort of feeling within me. Too much missing of the dead is fatal; my mother said that to me in one of her letters. She was right; you could miss someone to death. She would know best, she almost did.

Peeta bursts in through the door with a pile of wood towering over his head. "Brrr…it is cold out there! Snow is just starting to fall."

I see the white bits sparkle in his hair. Seeing that reminds me of the time we kissed in the snow. There was no real meaning behind that kiss, it was all pretend but I do remember the way the flakes looked in his hair. They created a halo of light, and brought out the lusty blond hidden among the ashy flecks in his hair.

Crackling bursts from the fire. Light flickers behind my eyes, and warm hands lift me from my nook on the couch. I'm half asleep and can only slightly hear Peeta's husky words as he speaks but not to me, to himself, "You're lucky Peeta. Now keep it together. Don't let her slip away when she's so close. Keep it together." He breathes several times and then whispers, "Not real. Not real Peeta."

I try to shake myself from sleep to help him, but my body refuses to wake. My brain however is buzzing. When I feel my body curl into the cold sheets my mind travels to the place of nightmares. Peeta's body provides no comfort for me tonight. Tonight I experience an entirely new kind of nightmare.

I wake up with an uneasy awful feeling in my gut. _They're coming for us. We have to go, _I think. Soundlessly I rise from the bed, and stick my head out the open window. Everything is quite, everything accept the voices in my mind. I grab my duffle from the floor, and pack everything valuable inside of it as well as some clothes. I don't zip it. Then I go to Peeta's side of the bed where he lays snoring with his arms sweeping over to where I would be sleeping. I shake him, "Peeta wake up." Nothing. "Peeta please. Please wake up"

He turns over and reaches his arms for me. "Hmm what?" he asks groggily.

"Get up we have to go!" _They're coming for us, _my mind screams.

"Go where Katniss? Everything is fine get back in bed," he's still half asleep.

"They're coming for us Peeta. They're coming. Please we have to go before they find us. Please," I plead.

Now he's awake and sitting up, "Katniss what? Who?"

"They."

"They who Katniss?"

"They want us dead!" I scream, "We need to go! Peeta!" I begin to pull his arm.

"Katniss slow down!" he responds.

Then the smoke starts wafting in through the open window. It reaches out like hands, and moves like clouds in a gentle wind. It's thick, and black just like in my dreams last night. "Peeta, look." I push his face towards the window.

"What Katniss? All I see is the curtains?"

"The smoke, don't you see the smoke?" I ask bewildered.

He searches with his eyes, "I don't see a thing. I think you're sleep walking."

"No I am not!" I pull him up from the bed so that he is standing next to me. "Please Peeta we need to go."

He doesn't answer immediately. I can see something brewing inside his mind. "Okay Katniss," he answers as calmly as possible, "I'll go with you."

I rush to grab the duffle and cough from the smoke billowing in through the open window. Then I go to grab his arm, and drag him out of the room. He won't move though. Peeta inches closer and closer to my face, until his lips are gently grazing my ear. "Not real Katniss," he whispers pulling me into his voice and out of the vision. "Focus on my voice. Close your eyes. Not real. Focus on me," he grabs my arm roughly but gently at the same time. "Listen to my voice." He gradually pushes me backwards, until I've hit the wall. "Not real," he says once more. Then I pass out.

The room spins and twists around me. I narrow my eyes. Where am I? Against my back I feel coldness, and then I curl my toes to feel the carpet beneath me. My knees are up to my chest. Peeta's arm is around me. I am on the floor. I am on the floor of the bedroom sitting against the wall; Peeta is holding me, quietly singing.

"What happened?" I whisper.

He removes his arm from behind me, "Oh. You're up."

"What happened Peeta?"

He runs his hand through his hair, "You woke me up around 1 and said that we had to go. That they were coming for us, I don't know who you were talking about. Snow I assume, you never told me. Then you started pulling me up, and you had a bag all packed with everything that meant something to you. All of the sudden you started telling me there was smoke coming into the room from outside. You were coughing and forcing me out of the room. I used the methods that Dr. Aurelius used on me when I was in a flashback. I had you focus on my voice. Then you passed out against the wall. Katniss you've been out for four hours."

I don't know what to say. "What do you think it was?"

He shrugs, "Maybe you were sleep walking? But you wouldn't have been so dead set on what was going on if you were just asleep. And I would have been able to wake you up easier. I don't know Katniss. I'm going to assume it was some hybrid nightmare."

I want to cry and scream. I do neither. "Why us Peeta? We don't deserve this."

"I don't know Katniss. All I know is this," he looks me in the eye, "the nightmares are never going to go away. We can choose to live in them, or move on. I'm going to move on. We have the book. We have ways that we can focus on things other than the Hunger Games. We have each other. "

He searches my eyes for emotion, for anything. "It just isn't fair. Peeta."

"None of this is fair."

"When will the pain stop? Will it ever?" I ask pleadingly.

He shakes his head, "No Katniss. I'm afraid it won't."

"I'm sorry Peeta. We promised that we would protect each other, and I couldn't do it. I couldn't protect you. I'm sorry."

"Please stop apologizing for something you could do nothing about. It's not your fault."

He presses his palm to my cheek. "I heard you fighting off a flashback."  
Peeta simply shrugs, "It happens."  
A single tear streams down my cheek. "Peeta, Peeta I am so sorry. You deserve so much more. So much more."

His thumb absorbs the tear from my cheek, "No Katniss. Everything I've ever wanted is right here. Sitting in front of me. She is everything I want, and you are her."

He inches closer. Little by little. The room is quiet; accept for the sound of our heavy nervous breathes. The smell of clementine peels and cake drifts off of him, and meets my nose. He smells so sweet, I helplessly wonder if his lips taste the same. His left hand comes up to cup my cheek, and his face comes even closer. Our foreheads lean against each other, and his impossibly blue eyes come into contact with mine. I can read his every emotion: longing, frightened, unknowing, and love there is some of that too. I wonder if my eyes portray the same feelings.

Whether from the cold wind or the feeling of Peeta being so close, shivers sail over my body. This time I am the one who closes the small gap between us. My lips graze against his, and I feel the warmth that escapes from his deep breathe. He crashes into me. In a feeling of longing, desire, and disclosure we collide.

Peeta's lips hastily find mine in the dark, and his hand's tangle in my hair pulling me closer. I want to be closer to him, I want more. I want him more than anything I have ever wanted in my life.

My hands find his neck and I pull myself into his lap. I run my fingers up until I find his feathery hair and tighten my fingers around it. His lips are smooth, and lace together with mine in perfectly. They taste like salt, and caramel. And being as close to him as I am now I smell the smokiness of the fire in the fibers of his shirt. I try to breathe it all in. I want to remember what it felt like to be comforted by his lips once more. And it feels like the calm after a storm, the cool air after a rain shower. To finally feel the comfort of Peeta's lips against mine is a feeling one cannot describe in words or in actions. It is a feeling that cannot be explained, only felt and savored until none is left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**_I Believe My Love_**

**_And My Love Relieves Me _**

**_a/n: _****all rights go to Suzanne Collins. Title of the chapter is taken from the song Lean by the National. Enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated (: **

When I wake up things are different. For starters I'm on the floor, well half of me is, the other half is strewn over Peeta's body. And I can't remember how or why I am here. I have no recollection of how I would have gotten onto the floor. I can't remember anything, not one thing. I rummage through my memory, and only come up with one, smoke.

Peeta snores below me. His hair is so long that the curls are starting to cover his eyes. I sweep them across his forehead and smile. In this light he looks so innocent and young. Like time and tragedy have not worn him. I know none of it is true, but sometimes I like to think what would have happened had he not been put into such awful situations. He's such a good person I have no doubt he would have gone on to do great things. One thing I do know, is that had he not been reaped, he would have gone on to do those great things without me. I feel a pinch in my heart. I lean into him, and kiss his cheek gingerly.

He rumbles, "Hey", his hand comes up to stroke my hair.

"Hi," I whisper directly into his ear.

"Are you okay?"  
"Yeah, why wouldn't be?" I ask confused.

At this he gets up, and takes me with him. Peeta looks me directly in the eyes, "You don't remember do you?"

"No…I have to admit I was a bit surprised to wake up on the floor. I couldn't remember anything from last night except for something about smoke. I figured our nightmares lead us here."

"Nothing? You remember nothing?" he sounds partly disappointed and partly glad but mostly confused

I shake my head, "No." His expression begins to worry me. "What happened Peeta?" He doesn't answer; he just looks away from me and wrings his hands. "What happened Peeta?" I insist. And so he explains it to me, all of it.

"You just kind of fell against the wall, and when you woke up from being unconscious you didn't remember anything. Then I guess we just fell asleep. That was it," he sounded like he was lying toward the very end. "I think it was some kind of hybrid nightmare. Maybe a symptom of the PTSD."

"Oh."

"C'mere," he coos and pulls me into his arms. "We're gonna be alright. We are."

"Why can't I remember?"

"I don't know Katniss. Maybe it's for the best."

"But I want to know what happened. I want to know!"

I can feel him shake his head, and hold me tighter. "No you don't."

"It didn't sound that bad, just like I went into some other world. Like I was sleep walking. Like the nightmare continued after I woke up, but I can't… I can't remember what I was dreaming before that. Maybe it just continued?"

"You weren't sleep walking Katniss," is his response.

"But then I didn't remember what had happened after I woke up from being unconscious. Now I don't remember even what happened after I woke up. Peeta this doesn't make any sense. I want to remember what happened after I woke up. I understand not remembering the nightmare, but when I woke up I wasn't still in it. I was awake. Peeta…I just don't understand." I lick my lips. They taste like salt and caramel. Strange. I pull away from our long hug, and look at him funny. Everything about last night seems odd, and I can't help but feel as if Peeta's story contains gaps.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're over thinking things. Relax. Everything is fine. I would tell you if something else happened last night, you know that right?"

"Yeah I know." But you aren't. He strokes my hair, and lingers at the bottom before letting go.

"Alright I need to shower. I'll meet you downstairs," Peeta says and shoots me a lopsided grin before getting up and entering the bathroom.

I don't move for a while. Nor get dressed. I just sit on the floor, gripping at pieces of the carpet. I fall into a daze. I'm not actually thinking, I'm just zoning out. My mind is blank. When the creek of the bathroom door rouses me, I turn to find Peeta behind me fully dressed. The sweet smell of his cologne wafts in through the open door, and makes me bashfully smile. He questions why I am not downstairs with his eyes. "Do you want to take a shower?"

"Yeah, I'll go take a shower," I get up, "No sense in making breakfast now. We'll just have lunch."

"Well Katniss, it's Monday so I have to go to the bakery," he glances at his watch, "In a little less than an hour."

"Oh. Oh okay. Well then I'll just shower, and I'll make myself lunch. I'll see you later then."

"Aren't you going to the woods?"

"Not today." I answer.

"Then I'll see you for dinner." He hugs me quickly and walks downstairs.

I feel as if I haven't showered in days, even though it was only the other day. I strip my clothes, and am reminded of ever-present scars. The burns are not as raw as they had been, but they've left behind pink skin that is tender to the touch. Scars cover my entire body except for my face, and upper chest. Those one's healed faster than the rest, probably because they were not as severe.

At the nape of my neck there is a sever burn, still unhealed, which singed off a few pieces of my hair but not enough to give me a bald spot. That is my most self-conscious burn; it's the one that everyone can see. The one that labels me as one who fought, not that they don't already know me, but it's like a permanent branding of a bad memory.

As I step under the hot streaming water my muscles relax, and feel a relief come over me. I stop thinking about last night, and how strange Peeta is acting. I think about my future instead, how from here, the lowest of the low, it can only go up. It has to. I've already hit the bottom, now I'm on my way to healing. And I am strong enough to do it. I won't crumble, I can't crumble, so many people did not die to see me come into nothing.

And as for Peeta and I, the future is ours, and I can no longer the fit of butterflies that inhabit my stomach when he smiles at me. I don't want to either, feeling like that stops the sadness. It makes me feel worthy of something, I feel alive when he looks at me. I know my future is with Peeta, and that both scares and excites me.

When I shut off the water, I hear the faint sound of a ringing phone. Then it stops. Less than two seconds later there is another ring. I emerge from the bathroom in only my towel stumbling down the stairs to reach the phone. When I pick it up I hear a strong male voice, "Katniss Everdeen?"  
"Yes this is she," there seems to be the faint sound of a scream in the background it's a deep chested scream that could only belong to a man.

"There's been an accident," my heart beats wildly, and I immediately know. Peeta, it was Peeta's scream. The phone slips from my hands and I bolt up the stairs to throw on some type of clothing. The only thing I can find fast enough is underwear and my robe. I sprint downstairs, and fly out the door without thinking about a coat or shoes. Peeta. My hair drips behind me. Peeta. I can feel rocks cutting my feet as I reach town. Peeta. The robe flies behind me. Peeta. The bakery window is shattered.

"Peeta!" I crash in through the door to find a few people biting their thumbs. Then screams. "Peeta!" I run to one of the bystanders, "Have you seen Peeta? Where is he? Is he okay?" I ask frantically.

"Miss Everdeen, go home." Rage fills me, and fear tears at me.

I follow the sound of the screams, to the backroom. The sound of shattering, and cries of pain emanates from behind the closed door. I jiggle the doorknob, locked. I'm tempted to knock but I know no one will answer. I can already hear people shouting at me from behind the counter.

"You can't go in there!" one screams and then continues with, "The door is locked Katniss, you can't open it!" I kick down the door.

My jaw and heart drop at the same time. I lunge for him, but am caught by a net of arms. "Sweetheart…"

"Peeta! Peeta!" I thrash, "Let go of me! Let go! PEETA!" As the body throws me away from the eyes of Peeta I see blood covering the ground, and shards of a window littering the surrounding area.

The fear in his eyes is one I have never seen there, as he speaks I cower, "You need to get out of here girl. You have to leave. Katniss."

I heave, "Never. You should know me better. I. Am. Not. Leaving."

Haymitch's hands lock around me, with an amount of force I didn't know he was capable of; I am dragged by my heels out of the room. I can see Peeta clearly in the corner of the room looking at his fists, blood dripping from them profusely. "NO! Peeta! Just someone help him please! Please!" Haymitch throws me to the ground deliberately hitting my shoulder and knee. Knocking them both out of place, and sending severe pain through my body.

"Leave now, Katniss. He's rogue." I begin to shake.

For several minutes I try to get up from the floor, but each time my knee gives out, and I fall back down to the floor. "Help him," I whisper quietly after I can breath no more.

I try what feels like one hundred more times, and at this time I am sure that my knee is more than thrown out. I bite my lip and crawl to the wall. I grab the edge of the doorframe and hoist myself up. Pain ripples through me, and I yelp. A tear forms in the corner of my eye, and spills over reluctantly. The rest of the way to Peeta makes me cry in abysmal pain. When I finally reach the room I see Haymitch kneeling beside him on the floor. "Peeta, look at me, " he says, "focus on my voice. Focus on me. Not real. Not real."

I can see it. Last night. Peeta telling me the same words. I can hear it in my mind. Then everything, everything comes back. The nightmare, the smoke, his words, his arms, his lips, I can see it all in my mind like a two second movie. Then it's over and I hear Haymitch again, "She's here. She's not a mutt. She's just a girl, she's fighting for you. Not real Peeta." His knuckles are bleeding all over his pants, and I can now see that he has a head wound as well. That one isn't bleeding as bad, but it is still enough to be dripping down and over his temples.

As he turns his face I see a gaping wound along his cheek, a rag soiled with blood is placed on it. "Peeta…" His eyes find me. And even from here I can see how large his pupil's are. Despite the pain in my knee I run to him. I don't care if he hurts me. If anything I deserve it.

I practically fall on top of him, and when my arms wrap around him I feel two things: Peeta's body become rigid, and Haymitch's hands trying to pry me off him. I don't let either of them affect me or change what I am about to do. My head rests on his shoulder, and my arms are wrapped tightly around him. The rest of me is spread across the floor next to him. The throbbing sensation has moved from my knee to my heart.

"Your name is Peeta Mellark. You're 17 years old. You like to teach me how to paint on good days, and you sketch in our book. You make the best cheese buns. You make me sleep with the windows open even when it's in the depths winter. You reprimand me for putting sugar in my tea. And when you have a child you'll make them double knot their shoelaces just like you," I bite my lip to stop the tears.

Peeta makes a low growl. "You're caring, strong, and tender. You're everything I've ever wanted, and when I wake up and see your eyes ridden with sleep I realize how lucky I am," I take a breath, "I knew it the minute I met you. That you were the only one for me, I just couldn't see it then. But I see it now Peeta, and I feel it too. I used to be afraid, I'm not afraid anymore. And whatever you are seeing right now, it's not real. None of that is real. _This _is real. Peeta, stay with me."

He lurches beneath my grip. "I can't hang on. Let go of me Katniss."

I breathe out the words, "I can't."

And I feel him deflate and unwind against me, falling into my everlasting arms. I run my fingers through his hair, "Oh Peeta."

He moans of pain which means he has emerged from the world of nightmares. "Someone call a doctor!"

"There is one on the way Katniss," Haymitch, who I had forgotten was behind me, says.

"We're gonna get you help Peeta, just hang on for a little bit longer," I can feel his head wound bleeding more profusely now against my thin silk robe. At this moment I begin to wonder what happened before I had arrived. How rogue is the rogue they were mumbling about? "Just hang on." I begin to sing then, to ease his pain like my father did for me. By the time I am done he is howling in agony. I press my lips to his sweat ridden hair.

From behind me I can hear Haymitch shouting orders to what I assume is the doctors, "He's been bleeding for a good half hour. You know his condition I presume. Just he needs help and fast, he has lost a lot of blood from the head wounds."

Men in white come rushing in and push me aside while simultaneously ripping Peeta from my arms. At this point he is hardly conscious. Haymitch comes and tucks me under his arms while ugly sobs escape me. "He'll be okay sweetheart." I bury my head into his chest, and try not at Peeta being taken out of the room and to emergency care.

"I have to go with him!" I say into Haymitch.

"Let them do their work, then we will go see him."

I'm crying too profusely to give him an answer, but his words seem to be reasonable enough. He takes me off my feet, and I can feel him walking. Even if I did bother to look I wouldn't be able to see through the film of tears covering my eyes. "I'm taking you out of here sweetheart, just hold on." When we finally stop moving, I am set down onto an all too uncomfortable metal chair in a white washroom. My eyes sting, and the room smells like antiseptic. Haymitch is at some type of desk fighting with a woman, he uses his hands to gesture to me. I assume we are in the hospital, it has the same eerie feel they all do.

"She is immediate family!" he roars.

"Then what is her relation to him?"

He scoffs, "My God woman did I not just tell you this whole ordeal?"

"Yes you did, and she has not real relation to him," the woman snapped back.

"Screw you. That girl, and me we're all he has, we are all that is left. So let us in or I can assure you we will get in by ourselves."

I could faintly see her roll her eyes, "Fine. But you can't go in yet; the doctors are still working on him. I'll open the doors when you can. Now go sit down sir."

He strode over to the chairs, and sat down next to me. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

I wave him off and then wrench my hands together, "We all knew this was gonna happen. Today was the day. Whatever, I'm fine."

"Whatever? Whatever?! This is not whatever, and I know you aren't actually thinking that. Stop being an insensitive bitch."

"You're calling me a bitch?" I scoffed, "Are you serious? The only person I love still thinks I'm a mutt; forgive me if I am upset. God."

"Do you even know which way you love him?"

I glare at him, "Nope, no. We are not delving into this topic right now. I'm not doing it."

"Katniss he doesn't think you're a mutt. Sometimes the memories they just get…shiny…jumbled."

"Spare me the speeches, I've heard it all."

"I know you have, but it helped when you held him. He relaxed, and it's like you're venom repelling. When you hold him, he feels again."  
"Peeta hates me when he's like that. I pretty much am committing suicide when I do that," I pause, "Oh, by the way I need some ice for my knee. Thanks for throwing me onto the ground. You threw out my shoulder, and my knee is wacked too."

"I just had to get you away from him," he touches my shoulder lightly, "I didn't mean to hurt you sweetheart."

"Stop calling me that!" I snap.

He takes his hand and eyes away from me, and gets up. Haymitch stomps down the hallway. I'm not sure where to, but I am glad he's gone. I couldn't stand one more of his idiotic blurbs about Peeta. I've heard everything: _The memories will come with time. Just be with him and he will get better. He's never going to be the same. He will return to normal one day. Don't pity him. Live normaly. He still feels the same way he had. _I don't know what to believe anymore. Day by day, I just have to take it day by day with Peeta. Some are better than others, but lately we have been closer. He seems like himself. Except at night when he gets quiet, and his arms go ridged around me. He remembers in the dark.

"Here," Haymitch throws something at me, "Ice."

"Thanks." He shrugs, and sits down again. I place the ice on my knee, and lean back.

A half hour and no words between Haymitch and I later, two doors creek open. "You can go in now. Room 216."

I drop the ice onto the chair opposite of me and limp into the hallway. I look both ways for the room, but don't find a 216 until the very end of the hall. I open the door, to find Peeta lying fast asleep. A nurse looks at me strange.

"Are you family?" she asks.

I nod.

"In that case, he's still under anesthesia. And we also gave him morphling to help with the pain. Couple more hours and he will be up."

"Okay thanks." I pull one of the chairs from the by the side of the starch white bed up so I am directly next to him. Close enough to hold his hand. His knuckles are taped up, as is his head, and his cheek is bandaged. His lip is cut too. Haymitch strides in next.

"See you've already made yourself comfy." I nod. It seems the nurse has left. "I think I will just be in the waiting room." He waves, and goes to exit the room.

"Wait!" he turns around in the doorway, "I'm sorry Haymitch. I didn't mean anything I said out there."

"I know sweetheart. Don't worry about me. Just stay with him." He shoots me a look of pity and then disappears.

I hold the part of Peeta's hand that is not bandaged, and run my thumb over his cheek for what seems like hours. I never noticed all the details in his face. His skin is ever so smooth, and there are seemingly no marks at all except for one scar underneath his jaw. It looks like it has been there for years, but still is quite noticeable if you look the right way.

When his eyes are closed he still looks 16. And his lips fall into a perfect line, but he doesn't look angry. Just peaceful. Subconsciously I start talking. "You know I always think about what my life would be like right now if I had gone and thanked you for saving my life after you threw that bread. Maybe we would have become friends, even lovers. And maybe we wouldn't have been picked for the games, and if we had been picked and known each other well what would have happened? I like to think the same thing would have resulted from that. Either way, I never thanked you, but I'm doing it now. Thank you for saving me. It seems you are always saving me. I don't mind though, if anyone I would rather have you catch me when I fall."

I stop for a few minutes then start rambling again, "Have I ever told you how much I love the little tendrils of your hair that fall over your forehead? I love brushing them from your eyes, and I love seeing them all fallen to one side when you wake up in the morning. I love how they stick to your forehead when you sweat, and how you push them back with your palm when you're working." I take a few of my fingers and brush the tendrils of hair from his eyes; it forms a faint smile on my face.

After several hours, sleep begins to take over me. The nurse said it would be long but I didn't expect it to be this long. I lay my head on Peeta's chest, "I remember about the kiss Peeta. And I can feel it on my lips. It felt real. And I know it was, because I felt that thing again. The hunger I felt on the beach," I bite my lip and lift my head up so that I can see his face, "I haven't felt that way since." Then I kiss him, soft and light. "I want to feel that way everyday." I let my hand rest on his cheek, and a tear falls from my eye. I am afraid. Afraid of what I feel. Because now I know, and that terrifies me more than when I didn't.

I spend many minutes just caressing Peeta's cheek with my hand. When I feel a slight movement in his jaw I look up to his eyes. They flutter slowly, and then open. Raging blue, as always, they lock with mine.

"You're up. How do you feel?"  
He doesn't answer for a few minutes. Then he wipes his eyes and says, "Absolutely superb Katniss."  
"That's what I thought," he smiles weakly.

"My…um…my knuckles really hurt," Peeta says.

"The nurse should be back any minute with some pain medicine," I continue to caress his cheek.

"Did I hurt you?"  
I shake my head.

"Katniss…could you get the nurse. The pain is unbearable," he says gritting his teeth.

"Of course. Of course I can." I exit the room telling him I will be right back and run to the desk notifying them of his discomfort. While there I tell Haymitch to come on back. He seems grateful for my easier mood, and invite. I know he wants to see Peeta too, whether he comes right out and says it or not.

The nurse comes in and hands him the morphling pill, he gladly swallows it and I retreat back to my chair and hold his fingers.

"How you feeling boy?" Haymitch asks.

"Did I hurt you?" Peeta retorts

"Not an answer."

"Neither is that. Answer me."

Haymitch shrugs, "Few bruises. I kind of rammed you against the wall though so we're even."

He runs his fingers through his hair, "I'm sor-"  
"Stop. I don't want to hear it. Neither of us wants to hear those words uttered from your mouth," he pauses, "When does he get out?"  
The nurse turns around, "Tomorrow. Dr. Aurelius was notified and wants to keep him for surveillance."  
"Wonderful," Peeta mutters.

I circle my thumb over his fingers. "Visiting hours is over in fifteen minutes. Dr. Aurelius said Katniss could stay but no one else."

Haymitch comes and gives Peeta a weak pat on the shoulder. Then warns him not to get into too much more trouble, and goes.

"Feeling better now?" I ask after the nurse leaves.

"So-so," he says, "The pain in my head isn't as bad."

"Want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head, "Will you lay with me?"

I nod, and scoot myself into the small bed. Instead of him holding me when I'm wounded and seeking comfort, his role now becomes mine, and I wrap my arms tenderly around his midriff. I feel the sobs wrack his chest, before the feel the tears soak the shoulder of my robe. I see the tears building up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. He desperately attempts to keep it together, but he shatters into my chest. He's always been strong for me, now it's my turn. I must be hold him, comfort him, show him that my feelings run deeper than the surface.

I don't speak. My hands trace over his back, and push through his hair. He murmurs things into my chest, and clenches my robe between his fingers. "I can't do this anymore, Katniss. I'm never going to be who I was, and I don't- I don't know where to start. Everything seems distorted, and wrong in my mind. I don't know. I just want to feel alive again," he cries.

I have to bite my lip to the point of bleeding to keep the tears from leaking out of me. I press my lips to his hair, and keep them there until the sobs stop. Eventually he comes up for air, and his eyes meet mine. They go wide with embarrassment, and his eyes dart away from me.

"God," he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, "I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to see me like that. I'm s-" I stop his lips with a kiss, because he's apologies won't do either of us any good. They are salty with tears, and burn with a raging heat. He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't kiss back. He's just starting to when I remove myself from him. The words tumble from my mouth without permission, "I remember…" I stumble, "About the kiss."

Peeta brings his swollen eyes to mine, and I realized that I've both said and done the wrong thing. It was the wrong time to say that, "Never mind. Forget I said anything. Just forget it." I lie back down on the firm hospital bed; Peeta is still rigid from both the kiss and confession.

"What?" he staggers.

I don't answer.

His voice sounds weak, "What did you say?"

"It's not important, just drop it. It was the wrong time."

"Was that a pity kiss?"

"I wouldn't pity kiss you," I state a bit more aggressively than desired.

"You aren't pretending anymore," he tears his eyes away from me, "Real or not real?"

"Real."

He bites at his thumb. "Oh."

"Bad timing Katniss," I murmur under my breath.

"No," he says, "not really. Or at least I don't think so."

I purse my lips, and he brings himself down next to me. He looks awful, and his eyes are still partly hazed.

"Sorry."

"If I can't apologize then you can't either," he avers. "Besides," Peeta continues, "I thought you said you weren't afraid anymore."

I shoot my eyes in his direction, "Wait…you actually heard that?"  
"I was in a flashback, not deaf. Yes I heard you."

"Oh," I gnaw on my lip, "I didn't think you…I just."  
"Was it, real or not real? The whole speech."

"What do you think?" I ask.

"Sounded pretty real to me, but then again, I never know with you." His

words are guarded and sharp.

"Real," I confirm. I tug him into my arms, and allow his head to rest on my

almost bare chest.

He tugs at my robe lightly, "Love the outfit."

I can hear Peeta in his voice, "Shut up. I was on short notice." I pull the silk

over me.

He sighs, "Goodnight Katniss."

"Goodnight Peeta."

I take Peeta home the next day, he doesn't talk much, or at all really. He stays upstairs most of the day, and finally comes down at five o'clock and I've set dinner out for him, a warm soup, and some cheese buns. He smiles sweetly at me and brushes his hand against my thigh under the table throughout the whole meal. My heart is in my throat.

"So about yesterday…"  
"What about it?" I ask.

"Do you know what happened?" He fumbles on some words.

"No, but Haymitch was there throughout the whole thing. I just got

you out of it."

"You always have been the only one who could do that," he whispers.

"I know what to say to you. It's like I can feel what you feel, and I just know. It's confusing. But I see what you see in a flashback when I look in the mirror."

I've lost my appetite so I take my bowl and leave the table. I hunch myself over the sink trying incredibly hard to take in whatever air I can. In seconds Peeta's hands have locked around my waist and are pulling me to face him.

"Then you're looking in the wrong mirror." Peeta reels me into him, and presses our bodies together so close I can feel his breath. His hands move up the curves of my body to cup my face. My breath hitches. I bite my lip and look deep into his eyes. Hunger, I see the hunger I've only felt twice in my life in his eyes. The blue, usually soft and tender, is hard and dense. His rough thumb makes circles on my left cheek. I can feel the bandaged rubbing against my skin, and it shoots me back into our broken reality. Before I can pull away, he crushes his lips against mine. Peeta's kiss pushes me backwards, sending me into the cabinets. This kiss is abrasive, but tender. It creates jolts of pleasure that pulse throughout my entire body.

Peeta suddenly lifts me up and sets me onto the counter a mere two feet away, and roughly moves his hands back down to my waist to pull me closer to him. I open my legs, and he walks between them to deepen the kiss. I drape them around his back, and allow myself to melt into him. His tongue darts out and over my bottom lip, I let out a small whimper. Begging him to come closer, even though it is physically impossible. He tangles his hand in my hair, and presses our lips firmly together. He moans aloud when I let my tongue flits out and meet his.

Seconds later, the phone rings. We both jump away from each other, resulting in my head banging against the corner of a cupboard.

Peeta is breathless when he answers the phone, "Hello?" "Oh, Dr. Aurelius. Yeah I'm…okay. The morphling helps." Pause. "Well Katniss is here with me. She stays with me, you know." Another pause. "No we aren't living together." Sigh. "It was the worst I've had since I got here." Nod. "Well, I'm not exactly sure what happened." He bites his lip and raises his voice, "You want me to what? No. No." Dr. Aurelius' voice gets sterner; I can here it faintly now. "Why?" He looks at me. "You aren't serious?" Peeta deflates. "Okay, okay. I understand. No, if, ands or buts, I got it. Yes, I'll see you then."

His facial expression is stiff, but his eyes are filled with trepidation and tears. "He's sending me back to the Capitol."


End file.
